


Mr Potter Lives for a Day

by Snegurochka



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-08
Updated: 2009-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-05 23:49:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snegurochka/pseuds/Snegurochka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albus wakes up on his seventeenth birthday determined to make the most of it.</p><p>~4,800 words. PG-13. Mostly genfic, with a hint of Al/Scorpius. Dark themes, but nothing tangible enough to be its own warning. Next-gen Sorting might be slightly AU, depending on your point of view. Written for ownficfest. Thanks to Flora for the beta work. September 2009.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr Potter Lives for a Day

** _6 a.m._ **

The sun was barely peeking over the Lake and in through his window when Albus Severus Potter woke up. He ran his tongue over his furry teeth, blinked and considered scratching his balls.

Ten seconds later, he gave in to the temptation. No sense pretending all men's needs weren't the same, after all, no matter who they were.

The other boys in the room were still blissfully snoring away. As Albus swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed the crust from his eyes, he felt a pang of chagrin at the early hour. It would be nice to sleep late on a day like today. But then again, if he slept late, he might miss something.

And on a day like today, missing something was out of the question.

He pushed his feet into warm slippers and padded off to the loo, humming softly to himself as he went. There was no telling what the day might bring, a fact that both terrified and excited him.

Today, you see, was Albus's birthday. It was one of only three days in the entire year when he was truly free, and this year – for the first time – he intended to make the most of it.

***

 

** _7 a.m._ **

The first thing he decided to do was to avoid his brother and sister at all costs.

He had already spent sixteen birthdays with James, after all, and nearly fourteen with Lily. Not to mention several before that, back when –

Well. That part didn't much matter anymore, did it? Besides, Albus had always been one to look forward not back, eager for the future rather than stuck lamenting the past. It was done, and he had already spent too many birthdays in laboratories and over cauldrons, searching desperately for an answer.

No answers had ever come. Last year, Albus had decided that his seventeenth birthday would be the first that he didn't spend searching, madly racing the clock, whose ticking hands pushed time through his bones in pained pulses.

He showered and dressed happily that morning, heading down to the Great Hall for breakfast with a lightness he hadn't felt in years.

***

 

** _7:16 a.m._ **

"Albus?"

Damn. So much for avoiding siblings.

Albus had barely made it down the stairs before James's cautious voice caught up with him. He turned to find James hurrying towards him from the door to the Slytherin dungeons, and –

Really, James was in Slytherin? Albus did a mental check back to the past few years. Yes, he supposed so. Funny how these things worked.

"Yes, it's me." Albus paused, holding back a mischievous grin. "Still in Slytherin, I see?"

James's eyes flashed. "Oh, yeah, very funny. Of all the bloody gin joints…" He shook his head and sighed. "I'm so sick of waking up every year with those arseholes snoring their bloody heads off." He caught his language and had the good sense to look contrite. "Sorry."

Albus waved him off.

"Have you seen Lily?"

Albus clenched his jaw. "No," he said in a tone that brooked no argument, "and I suggest you not go looking for her, for once."

"No one'd see," muttered James, the petulance rising in his voice. "We could go behind the greenhouses or something."

"If Professor Longbottom is still teaching here, I don't recommend it. He knows our parents quite well, remember?"

James frowned, kicking at the stone floor.

"James."

He glanced up, pressing his lips together with a mixture of anger and sadness on his face.

"We go through this every time," said Albus, sighing. "You _cannot_."

"I get it," James bit out. "Okay? God, and now I have to listen to my little brother tell me what to do." He tried for a helpless smile at that, but it ended up twisted on his lips.

"Run along, now," said Albus, suddenly feeling exhausted by the day already. He gestured towards the Great Hall. "I can't be seen conversing with a Slytherin, now, can I?"

"But, what's our plan this time?" asked James, ignoring the jibe.

Albus didn't answer, only nodding once more towards the Hall.

James shot him an irritated look but obeyed, skulking into the Hall and sliding into a seat beside a pretty brunette at the Slytherin bench.

Albus followed him a moment later, shaking his head. The lad always did have a fiery streak.

***

 

** _9:30 a.m._ **

"There you are."

Albus stopped in mid-stride, glancing back over his shoulder. He hitched his book bag further up his shoulder and did a double take, extending his gaze before he could stop himself. He let his eyes lower and then sweep back up.

Well, now. This young man was rather nicely put together, wasn't he?

"Here I am," agreed Albus softly, watching his new companion approach.

The boy stopped a bit further away than Albus would have liked, his face suddenly overcome with apprehension. Full, pinkened lips parted as he gazed at Albus, his eyes searching Albus's face. "Happy Birthday," he murmured, his eyes darting around the hallway, presumably to ensure no one noticed two boys were watching each other with such heated expressions. Albus felt a smidgen of sadness at that. Some things never changed.

"Thank you."

"Have you thought any more about– I mean–" What started as a heated whisper quickly turned strained, a pretty flush creeping up the boy's face.

Albus favoured him with an indulgent smile, and the boy seemed to relax. "About…?" he prompted.

The boy pushed a lock of pale hair out of his eyes, unable to suppress a grin. "_You_ know," he nudged shyly. "About… what we talked about? For your birthday?"

Albus's stomach did a slow, steady flip, sensations he hadn't felt in years suddenly surging through him. _Seventeen_. Oh yes, that really was a lovely year, wasn't it? He'd nearly forgotten. "Of course I have," he said quietly, revelling in the way the boy's face lit up, arousal and apprehension warring across his features. "And I'm–" he paused, wetting his lips. Oh, he _shouldn't_. But he only had a day, and if a young man like this was going to offer himself on a silver platter, he couldn't see what harm it would do. "–ready whenever you are," he finished, offering the lad a nervous smile.

"Oi, Malfoy!"

The two of them turned towards the group of boys passing them in the hall.

"Double potions, mate, come on," one called. "Leave your Gryffindor boyfriend alone for two bloody hours, can't you?" Laughing, they hooted and hollered but continued on down the hall, as the boy blushed furiously beside Albus.

"Sorry," he murmured. "Better go."

_Malfoy_. Albus took a deep breath. Good grief. That certainly complicated things.

"Maybe this afternoon?" he whispered, already moving away. "Before dinner?"

Albus nodded without thinking, still somewhat blinded by the boy's eagerness and beauty.

The light touch of fingers slid over his own for a heartbeat as Malfoy passed, and Albus found himself bringing that hand up to his face and gazing stupidly at it for a long moment after he'd gone. There had been a boy, so long ago it felt like yesterday, with blond hair and full lips and eyes only for Albus. He gazed down the hallway at the retreating form and nearly convinced himself that this could be the same.

At the very least, it beat that horrid situation two years prior, when the Creevey girl had cornered him outside Charms and tried to stick her tongue down his throat.

***

 

** _11 a.m._ **

"James says you've given up! That you're not even _trying_ this year!"

Albus sighed, pressing the tips of his fingers against his eyes before turning around.

"How can you do this to us?"

"Lily, lower your voice."

She mashed her lips together, glaring at him. The resemblance truly was remarkable; he'd nearly forgotten. Her hair cascaded in gentle ginger waves down her shoulders, and her eyes, though the wrong colour, contrasted with her pale skin just as they had in the generations before her. Albus felt his heart collapse in on itself for a brief moment, and overcome with grief at their situation, he struggled to breathe.

Her eyes widened. "No, okay, are you all right?" She took his elbow and guided him to the staircase from the main foyer. They sat down and he focused on filling his lungs with clean, living air, calming his heartbeat. "I'm sorry," she continued, her voice strained. "I just, I woke up this morning and I couldn't do it. I just couldn't. Not again."

"I know, dear," he murmured.

"There has to be an answer," she insisted, her hands balling into fists in her lap. "We _have_ to reverse this!"

He remained silent.

"Albus, how can you just give up? It's not like you." She grasped his arm, whispering furiously. "They're older now, no longer children. It'll be easier to get the ingredients to experiment, get time in the potions lab…" She gestured helplessly. "There won't be as many questions as before."

"Like trying to explain to Harry what his toddlers were doing in the kitchen with a cauldron of lacewing flies?"

She half-laughed, half-sobbed, covering her face with her hands.

"Come, now," he said quietly. "They're older now, it's true, which means it's not as bad anymore. Is it? Certainly better than waking up as a five-year-old three times a year."

"Or a baby," said Lily pointedly, her eyes brimming with tears. She began to shake her head rhythmically. "But I _can't_, Albus. Not this year. Not again. Not with James so–" She pressed her lips together.

"Ah. So much older?" he asked gently.

Tears began rolling down her cheeks and she brushed angrily at them, aware of the concerned looks from passers-by. "He looks good, doesn't he?" She forced a laugh through her misery. "Ginger hair, too. It's more prominent than last time, don't you think? Who would have thought _that_ would appeal?" She shook her head. "But still so messy." She swallowed and glanced over at Albus as a fresh wave of tears overtook her.

Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he let her drop her head and sob against his chest, unable, for once, to come up with words of comfort.

***

 

** _12:30 p.m._ **

Albus had never admitted this to James or Lily, but he didn't mind attending classes on his birthday. Or on either of theirs, for that matter. There was something comforting about moving through Hogwarts once more, young and energetic, with handsome boys waving at him and shy girls giggling behind their hands. He had always been popular; in that sense, not much had changed. He'd also always had something of a Ravenclaw mind in his Gryffindor body, and sitting through a day of new learning secretly excited him.

The trick, of course, was to accurately estimate the boy's skill level and be sure not to exceed it. He had made that mistake some time ago – was it Lily's eleventh birthday? Or possibly James's fifteenth – and had suffered through a subsequent detention with Minerva that had led him to wonder why he'd never employed her in prisoner interrogation years ago. _Where did you learn that spell? Albus Severus Potter, you hand over every one of those Dark Arts books you're hiding, or your father will hear about this!_

Albus smiled. That had been close. He'd done his best to avoid Minerva since then. She always did see too much.

***

 

** _1 p.m._ **

The day was bright and sunny, and Albus found himself with a spot of free time after lunch. He headed out to the grounds, breathing in the fresh air. The Lake seemed an obvious destination. As he approached, the soft grass springing under his feet, he heard whispers behind a patch of shade trees.

Albus lowered his head and began to _peer_, before remembering he no longer wore spectacles.

He couldn't make out the words, but the two figures huddled behind the tree were unmistakable. Soft ginger hair gave one away, not to mention the ring of impenetrable magic radiating off the pair of them. Albus would have sensed it from across the castle.

He debated interrupting them but then held back, sighing. As long as they weren't caught being improper, he supposed James and Lily deserved some time to themselves. Albus had only seen James cry one time in their lives, in fact, and that was the day Lily was born. Three years old and clinging to Albus's little hand, James had watched her come through the door in Ginny's arms, her mouth frozen in an _O_ of shock and her too-alert eyes darting around the room.

"Oh, God," Albus remembered James whispering to him, as the magic took hold and announced a new birthday. "Just like when you were born," he choked out, turning his face away from the other family members. "Suddenly we're back here, in these bodies, and _look_ at her. Did you– it was you that day too, wasn't it? The real you?"

Albus had nodded grimly. That had been one of the most difficult days of his life.

And now Harry and Ginny had done it again; they'd named their daughter _Lily_.

When James realised she was trapped, unable to speak until she reappeared at the next birthday, he'd crawled onto the couch beside Albus and cried like nothing Albus had seen before. He grasped fistfuls of Albus's shirt, sobbing against his shoulder and murmuring Lily's name. Harry had taken it as envy over James's new sister and given him a patient smile, pulling lollipops out of his pockets and shoving them in the general direction of his sons.

Later, Albus had caught James hovering at Ginny's side as she rocked the new baby. He stroked her cheek and gazed into her eyes, trying to communicate to her that he knew she was there, and that it would be all right. The power of love, Albus recalled thinking. One could never underestimate it.

Eyeing them now in the shade of the old oak tree near the Lake, Albus endured a stab of regret at his decision to cease seeking answers. They were huddled close together, murmuring and smiling gently at each other, but they stopped just shy of overtly touching. Trusting gazes locked on each other, though, and after a moment, Albus had to look away.

There _were _no answers. That was precisely the problem. A wizard as powerful as Harry, invoking a magic as old as time... well. What James and Lily would never understand was that Albus had already tried everything he knew to reverse it, and then some. Nothing had worked.

He walked towards the Lake, damp earth moulding to his shoes and weighing down his steps. When he got to the water's edge, he paused. He would never get used to the face that gazed back at him: the spitting image of Harry himself at that age, but with a dusting of Weasley freckles across the nose and the deep, sad eyes of a soul imprisoned. He wondered what it would be like to see Albus Severus Potter for himself; he could only hope that the boy was oblivious for the rest of the year, full of life and self-involved in the way only teenagers could be.

Without a care in the world.

***

 

** _2:28 p.m._ **

Damn. He should have known better than to cross the Transfiguration corridor. He always lost track of when she'd been Headmistress, and when she'd gone back to teaching.

"Potter!"

He sighed, turning.

"I suppose it's above a member of the Potter family to actually attend my classes on their birthday, is it?" Minerva stood tall in the door of her classroom, chin high and arms folded as she glared at him.

"Has been for some years, yes," he replied, rubbing his chin.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Right. Ah, my apologies, Professor."

She fell silent then, a strange look passing over her face. "You haven't missed one of my classes since your sister's birthday," she said quietly, her gaze locked on him.

"Has it been that long?"

"You know it has."

Her scrutinising gaze made him shift from one foot to the other. "Yes, well, children should spend their birthdays outdoors, don't you agree? Fresh air and a spot of sunshine do wonders to set the tone for the coming year." Even as the words spilled out of his mouth, he tried to grasp hold of them and haul them back. Bugger.

She blinked at him, a slow look of wonder opening on her face. Leaning forward as if to inspect him more closely, her mouth fell open. She tilted her head to the side, looking deep in his eyes. "_Albus_?" she whispered at last. She looked horrified and ecstatic all at once, desperate to believe, and for a single, jolting second, Albus very nearly told her everything, very nearly cupped her cheek and assured her that yes, it was he, that she could ask him anything she wished and he would answer, just as he'd always done.

But no. He could not. Taking a step back, he steadied his nerves. The living should never have to take on the burdens of the dead.

"That's my name!" he said cheerfully, giving her what he hoped was a cheeky Potter smile. "All right, Professor? Only, I'll be late for Charms." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder and gave her an expectant look.

She closed her eyes and shook her head quickly, as if clearing it, then gave him a tight smile. "Yes, all right. Detention on Friday, however, for missing my class, Potter."

"Aw!" Albus let his face crumple in adolescent disappointment for a moment. "_Fine_." He turned and stalked off, not daring to look back.

***

 

** _4 p.m._ **

The hallway was thankfully deserted when they emerged from the Room of Requirement. Flushed and still a bit breathless, Albus let his fingers reach out to tangle with those of the boy behind him. He glanced back to see tousled blond hair framing a face that couldn't hide its delight, pink and elated.

"Oh my _God_," the boy moaned, his lips still seeking the back of Albus's neck as they stumbled down the hall together, righting their clothing. "Let's go back."

Albus tried to quit grinning like a schoolboy. "Tomorrow," he murmured, stopping to turn and brush his lips over the other boy's. "Promise me you'll find me tomorrow, and do exactly what you just did right now."

"Anytime," he breathed, laughing. "Oh my God. Tonight, tomorrow, next week. Just. _Whenever_."

"Tomorrow," insisted Albus. "It has to be tomorrow."

The boy gave him a quizzical look, his face pure Malfoy, now that Albus thought about it, although with softer lines to his brow and jaw. After a few seconds, he nodded. "Tomorrow," he confirmed, biting at his lower lip and grinning once more. He checked the time. "Bollocks," he muttered. "I've got to meet Linderman in the library before dinner. Bloody prat can't draw a star chart to save his life." He hitched his book bag up, fumbled to check his zip once more, and then dashed off down the hall, glancing back to give Albus a wave.

When he'd gone, Albus slid down to the floor in the hallway and stayed there for a long time. Sitting cross-legged with his palms resting on his knees, he closed his eyes and tried to remember a different time: an adolescence spent on the Continent surrounded by more magic than he'd ever dreamed of; a blissful year spent in the bed of a blond boy who had never looked at Albus with the sheer passion and _gratitude_ of the boy today but who he had loved nonetheless; and decades spent wondering what might have been different, if only –

If only.

He was too nauseous for dinner.

***

 

** _5:11 p.m._ **

"I was wondering if you'd bother showing up today."

Albus smiled at the deep, petulant voice. Visiting this corridor was always like coming home, in a way. "Have I ever not?"

A grumble. "Several times."

"Yes, well. Things get busy." He spread his hands. "How are you, old boy?"

"Oh, don't call me that. It's insulting. Not to mention, you'd better hope nobody hears you." Dark eyes scanned the hallway behind Albus.

"Be nice, Severus," said Albus, narrowing his eyes. "I'm quite sure I know a few tricks that could transfer this spell to _you_, you know."

"You most certainly do not, or you would have done already," Snape huffed, folding his arms over his chest and turning towards his gilded frame. "And _yes_, I've already thanked Merlin more times than I can count that the boys' middle names didn't come into play in this. Or haven't, at least." He scowled. "Yet."

"You mean you don't wish to spend three days a year with Sirius Black reincarnated?" Albus smiled at the look of murderous rage on Snape's face. "Lucky for you, then, it didn't work out that way."

"Lucky," Snape bit out. "Yes, that must be it." He sighed, glancing down at Albus. "So? You might as well tell me what harebrained scheme you've tried this year."

"So that you can go ahead and tell me I'm a fool with my head in the clouds, that it will never work, that I'm stuck like this for the rest of the lad's life?"

Snape shrugged.

"Save your breath, then. There is no scheme this year."

Snape lifted a brow.

"Go on. Say what you wish."

"You've given up?" In his Headmaster's robes, Albus had to admit that Snape looked quite formidable. He glared down at Albus with confusion and judgement in his dark eyes.

"I've simply exhausted all avenues," said Albus, sighing.

"Bollocks."

Albus glanced up, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth. "I beg your pardon?"

"There must be something you can–"

"Well, look who's decided to come on board after years of telling me to give it up."

Snape frowned, averting Albus's eyes. "You can't expect me to watch Potter follow poor Lily around like an animal in heat – _again_, can you? Has he completely forgotten they're siblings now? Merlin's balls." A look of pure disgust flashed across his face, but hidden behind it, Albus saw something else.

"Have you spoken with her?" he asked gently. Severus only folded his arms tighter across his chest. "I did mention to her several years ago that you knew about us, if she cared to say hello."

Snape gazed out the side of the portrait. "She has come by occasionally, yes," he murmured. "It's James who usually comes, though, you know."

Albus blinked at him.

"The other James, I mean." Snape waved his hand. "Great thirst for knowledge, that one, or at least he puts on a good act. Must have asked me everything under the sun over the years." He sighed, trying – and failing, Albus thought – to look put out. "_Why did you hate my grandfather_?" he began in a whinging voice. "_Why did you let Voldemort take over Hogwarts? Why can't I add Doxy eggs to Felix Felicis and not have it turn out as lucky as burnt toast_?" Snape rolled his eyes. "He's a right pain in the arse, that one."

"I didn't know," said Albus quietly, wondering what else he didn't actually know about the Potter children. Everything, he supposed.

Snape sighed. "The only way I know it's birthday time again is when he _doesn't_ show up, to be honest." He held Albus's gaze. "That's when you come instead."

"You never see Albus Severus, then?"

"Not often, no." He could feel Snape's eyes on him. "You wish to know what he's like, I suppose."

Albus hugged his arms around himself. "Wouldn't you?"

Snape's tone softened. "He does well in school, I believe," he began. "Popular, although show me a Potter who isn't," he added with a sneer. "Minerva seems fond enough of him, although there is evidence that pranking indeed runs in his blood." Snape paused. "He's been seeing a young man lately. Someone I'm sure his father would not approve of."

Snape couldn't quite hide the smugness from his voice at that, and Albus gave him a tight smile. "A Malfoy?"

Snape's eyebrows shot up. "Ah. He's wished you a Happy Birthday, I imagine?"

Albus nodded, not quite prepared to say more on the subject.

"I believe he has a good life," Snape added.

"Ah. But if only he could ever remember one of his birthdays," said Albus, shaking his head.

"Are you certain you've tried the Walpurgis incantation correctly, the one I mentioned las–"

"I've tried everything."

Snape fell silent. "Then leave him a note," he said after a long moment. "Tell him he had a brilliant birthday with too much gin."

"No," said Albus quietly. "No more notes. The last one landed the poor boy in St Mungo's for seven weeks." A shadow passed over Albus's spirit. That one had been Lily's idea, convinced that if they left notes for their namesakes to find the next day, explaining everything, they could seek help more than three brief days a year. Where James and Lily had dismissed theirs as pranks from their cousins, Albus Severus had latched onto his, telling anyone who would listen that he was being possessed. Albus had only learned about it from reading the boy's diary the next time. "Maybe when he's older," he added, rubbing his chin. "But not now."

"No," Snape agreed, looking weary, "not now."

They were both silent for a long moment, subtle air currents in the deserted hallway rustling a stray bit of parchment tucked up against the wall.

"Well, then," said Albus at last, clearing his throat. "If you'll excuse me, Severus, I'm going to go have dinner with my brother and sister now, and then perhaps kiss my boyfriend goodnight, and then retire for the evening. It's been quite a day." He forced a smile, but Snape was never so easily fooled.

"Albus," said Snape, peering down at him. "How are _you_ faring?"

The question stumped him. He had woken optimistic, and over the course of the day had experienced impatience, fear, surprise, pleasure, and melancholy, at the very least. "I am tired," he answered at last, giving Snape a tiny bow. "I think I am ready for this day to be over. Again."

Snape nodded. "Off you go, then," he said, his voice sombre. "See you next time."

Albus picked up his book bag and started off down the hall. "Severus," he said, turning. "If I ever don't come back, will you tell someone what happened? Maybe not the children themselves, or Harry. Perhaps after they are dead. But tell someone. Make sure this doesn't happen again."

"We don't know how it happened in the first place," Snape pointed out. "We cannot know that it won't happen again."

Albus nodded wearily and turned to trudge back down the hall. "No," he murmured to himself, "I suppose we cannot."

***

 

** _Eighteen years ago_ **

The infant emerged with a sharp cry, tiny fists pummelling the open air. Quickly swaddled and handed off to his weeping mother, he sucked at her finger with resolve. His dumbfounded father blinked at him, tears spilling down a face crumpled with joy and disbelief, while his mother rolled her eyes and smiled at them both.

"James," his father said breathlessly, gazing down at him and stroking his thumb over the baby's damp head.

"Harry," the mother said warningly, "no. We're not naming him James."

"Come on, Gin, it's perfect! He's perfect. It's the least I can do to honour my dad, you know?"

"But you heard what Bill said! Your bond to your parents, to everyone you love – it's too strong. Naming children after the dead in that sort of circumstance can awaken a powerful force. Just, let's go with Neville. Or Arthur! Dad would be thrilled."

But at the mere mention of the first name, the baby had fallen quiet. Unbeknownst to his parents, the magic had already begun to take hold, winding its way around him and seeping in through his pores.

"No, Gin. It has to be James. I can feel it." He opened his hand and cupped the baby's head, astonished at the tiny thing before him, looking up at him for guidance.

Sighing and tucking her arm in to further support the baby, she nodded. "Oh, fine. James it is, then." She paused, gazing down at her son. "Hello, there, James."

All of a sudden, the baby ceased its gurgling and spat his mother's finger from his lips. He went still and his eyes opened wide.

Only two years later, on his brother's first birthday, would he begin to understand.

 

-fin-

 

**Note:**  
The title comes from the film, _Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day_, although I'm quite sure the plot bears no resemblance. :)


End file.
